I think I wrote this originally when I was 25 or so.
The crumbling rock falling to the ground made me remember what its like to be in this position, the light from the staff I was holding burned a circle about me. The stone floor was cold on my feet, frozen solid it seemed, reflecting the light and bouncing it about the room on its uneven polished surfaces. The sparks of light showed their eyes, they were dark, burning eyes. Their mouths slavering, wanting, needing. Nothing I could do would satiate them.
The clamoring armor chinking in the darkness, the drips of drool falling to the floor, an axe grinding against stone some 10 feet away. I felt a shiver come about my body, that sound freezing my bones, but I shook my head, couldn’t let the shiver take me. Any wavering in my concentration would show weakness, and that was what they were waiting for. At my feet lie a man, crumbled and beaten, but not dead. Wounded from great battles with the demons, his sword chipped and mangled, his armor all but torn from him. Moaning a name over and over, quite difficult to make out in his current state.
A drum beat started in the distance to my right, the man reached for his sword, I knelt next to him, stayed his hand. Whispered to him, “no, this is my fight now, you need rest”. As I stood I noticed my robes stained in the crimson blood that had pooled about his body. His strength is waning , I thought to myself, knowing he would not last long here. I walked around him, holding my staff high, the brilliant light crashing upon tooth and nail of the enemies. Forcing them to shrink back from it, in fright and frustration they pulled back from me, trying not to let the light touch them.
They surrounded us, my companion and I, and I knew not what to do to get rid of them. I noticed to the left that there was a space opening in the crowd. Most likely a trap, but a space nonetheless. Knowing that it was a trap before hand would give me ample time to prevent the demons from springing it. I heard clanging behind me, accompanied by coughs and grunts. As I turned, a ringing powerful sound struck the stone walls. He had used his sword to stand, wavering on his feet, I shook my head at him.
Through clenched teeth, and a most likely broken jaw, he said, “You cannot do this alone Mystic.” He was right, I lacked the power to take them all on, my light would only hold them at bay for so long. I could hear them get restless as they saw him stand. Moving back and forth like panthers on the prowl. I nodded in the direction of the space in the crowd, he nodded back in acknowledgement. I could almost hear the strain in his muscles as he lifted the sword, the blade glinting with the light from the staff. Reflecting to the right to show that they had moved closer to us. “They seem to be impatient.”
“25 days,” he said, almost gutterally, you could hear the pain in his voice. “25 days, I’ve held them back, and they keep coming. I will not be here a minute longer, I cannot.”
I nodded, knowing that arguing with him would do little good, he made something close to a smile, and his eyes lit up. Burning deep with desire, his eyes glowed with his inner strength. His deep voice started to rumble, I could hear it coming from deep in his chest, scratchy, his heart beating faster. His eyes lighting more and more. It was time. Time to finish the fight. Time to move from this place.
He opened his mouth and winced, shutting his eyes against the pain, freeing his mind, and with it his voice. It ramped to a scream, and then each second growing more and more strength. He opened his eyes and they seemed alight with fire. You could feel the cringing about us, they knew their foe, and his strength. He’d been fighting them for so long, they knew how many had fallen at his hands.
The floor began to rumble with his voice, and the rumbling got louder. The footing was getting difficult, I was shifting about trying to keep my feet. The glow spread from his eyes to his hands, the lines tracing him in the darkness, brighter than the light from the staff, for it was real. The staff only imitated this strength, I closed my eyes and felt for the right time. I could see the light through my lids, could make out his outline in the darkness of them. He brought his sword above his head, and crashed it to the ground, the light traveled from his body to the sword. The stone clanged with a deafening ring, and the light flashed so brightly that the entire hall lit up for a fleeting moment.
This was the time, I pulled in all that I could, held my breath, snatched him before he fell and shot for the space in the crowd. 3 demons dropped in from behind us, still reeling from the light, they were stronger than the others. Most were still trying to stand again after his display. There axes targeting my head, I struck my staff to the ground, and screamed “NO!” With that the flash of light from the staff threw them backward, and I ran. The dim entrance only 30 feet away. I dropped the staff and held him steadfast. Running, the pacing of my feet counting my heartbeat. He was fading, I must get him to the light.
20 feet, running, the banging and clashing behind me let me know that we were pursued. Growls and howls that seemed to be on top of us. 10 feet, I felt the breath on the back of my neck, the hot sticky smell from just a second behind us. 5 feet, my feet burned with the pain of my load, his body was desperately trying to fall from my clutches, 2 feet, I mustered the last ounce of my strength and threw him free of the darkness.
I woke 3 days later, picked up the broken old man next to me, and carried him to the nearest stream. I cleaned our wounds and packed the horses that were waiting for us nearby. The old man would be fine, he had come for me in darker places before, and he always seemed to be at my side the next day, laughing and pointing out the lighter side of things.
His staff and my sword were lost to the darkness, but they could be replaced, we were alive.